7 tracks that made Circoloco's opening the most exhilarating yet

Jackmaster, Terrace

The closing of the Garden at 2am, when Jackmaster steps up to take charge of the Terrace, is a tumultuous piece of programming. The Glaswegian party-starter is one of the biggest DJs on the island these days, and his popularity shows in the vast crowds that desert the Garden and make their way inside. The atmosphere in the room hits a peak, and the Numbers boss thrives in the environment, drawing for edits of recognisable classics such as ‘Good Life’ that have been given a big ‘beefa makeover with bolstered percussive hits and big, crunchy bass layers.

It’s a triumphant performance, accentuated by every figure in the booth ecstatically hugging him from over the shoulders and his best mate Jasper James losing his mind beside his compatriot with extroverted support. It's not Jack’s fault, but the busyness does detract from the set at points, with focus forcibly shifted away from the music and towards trying to stay vertical in the midst of crowd crushes.

DVS1, Main Room

American selector DVS1 rifles through the hardest set of the night, by some distance. His background as a warehouse rave promoter in the Midwest powers through to the fore, with weighty, industrial beats charging relentlessly across his 90-minute stint in the Main Room. He manages to play tough while still captivating the crowd, with forays into spooky, whirring and reverberating techno.

The room’s immersive décor adds to the experience. Glowing orbs hang from the ceiling and thin lasers shoot across the breadth of the room like a menacing grid guarding against a bank heist. Yet despite the high production levels, DVS1 himself is the most compelling sight. He contorts and convulses behind the decks, arms flying off the mixer with every twist and knees bouncing, torso jerking with the jagged rhythm of a perilous printer jam throughout, pausing only to soak up the sweat pouring down his face with a towel.

Marcel Dettmann, Main Room

Few artists in dance music measure up to the majestic stature of Marcel Dettmann. He cuts a bold figure in the booth of the Main Room: poised, calm, towering. It’s a stark contrast to the scenes he stimulates around the room. Dancers gyrate vigorously, twisting their bodies to the muscular techno he hammers out of the rugged system. He shifts through atmospheres with deft skill, building to electro-tinged breakdowns and plunging into disorientating, moody depths. But the spacey moments never last too long: booming kicks coming back in with the propulsive energy of a cataclysmic thunder strike every single time.

Towards the end of his set a friend or fan grabs his attention in the booth and Marcel responds with an enthusiastic grin and friendly punch to the arm, before turning back to his composed position at the controls to continue laying waste to the floor. It’s a moment that sums him up: techno’s friendly giant, with a heart of gold and a record bag packed full of darkness.